What does it mean to be 32?
Does it have to mean anything? Is it worth celebrating?
Under normal circumstances, I would be happy to have a simple dinner with my husband and family. But the last two years have given me enough alone time that I want to be outside with other people, to celebrate another year of being alive.
Thinking about birthdays now, I reflect on the significance of such events, about having a marker each year for one’s grand entrance into the world. How lovely it is to know someone and be able to tell them how happy and lucky they are that you came into their life. And for the celebrant, what a joy it is to just be – to witness and experience a slice of the pie, no matter how minuscule in the grand scheme of things.
The fact is, birthdays will come and go. People will enter and exit, sometimes leaving as swiftly as they came. There is no use thinking if the 25th, 30th or 40th was or will be the best one yet, the ones most worthwhile celebrating. Because in the end, what matters is what is before us, the one we can savor at the moment, the present. I am alive now. I am me, still – whole, healthy, and loved. If that isn’t worth celebrating then I don’t know what is.
Here are some photos from the eve of my birthday, followed by snapshots of the sunrise, which we watched with some new friends.
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